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Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1853, by 

TnoMAS MacKellar, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of 

Pennsylvania. 



STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON & CO. 
PHILADELPHIA. 



PRINTED BY C. SHERMAN. 



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Cable of Contents. 










PAGE 




Winter's Phases 




11 




Why Delay the Violets?.. 




17 


Lost and Sayed 




18 




The Two Processions 




21 


A Child at a Window 




24 




On Seeing the Picture op 


a Child 


25 




My Sabbath Scholar 




26 




The House Loye-haunted.. 




27 




Pity, Good Gentlefolks 




29 




September Rain 




32 




The Girl and Woman 




35 


To Bob 




37 


The Early Ice 




39 


The City-bound 




..... 40 


A Poet and His Song 


43 

7 








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8 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

I'AGE 

The Spirit's Ailment and Remedy 44 

A Plea for Peace and Unity 4G 

Lines to My Specs 49 

The Presence in the Dwelling 51 

The Sting of the Tongue 53 

I've not the Heart to Cut them Down 55 

Prayer for Rain 57 

A Colloquy with My Pen 59 

A Spring Sonnet 62 

TnE Angel in a Maiden's Eyes 63 

The Dear One at Home 65 

The Home of the Hapless , 67 

A Country Sabbath 69 

The Hat 72 

Good-Night Wishes 73 

Ascent of St. Anthony's Nose 75 

New Year's Eye in a Fog on the Hudson, 79 

To a Troublesome Fly 83 

Posthumous Fame 85 

My Nephew Frank Tourtelot 86 



Q= 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 9 

PAGE 

To a Friend 87 

Mary's Hollow 88 

Joseph C. Neal 92 

"He will not again Forget us." 93 

The Riyer of Rhyme 97 

The Beautiful Days of Spring 99 

The Decaying Homestead 101 

Whistling 104 

The Falling House 106 

The Latest Born 108 

The Burial of the Beautiful Ill 

Memories of Mother 113 

Life's Eyening , 115 

The Tea-Table 116 

The City Belle Beside the Brook 117 

The Poor Boy 120 

Autumnal Quiet 121 

Hungary 124 

To My Boot 127 

The Mother 129 



=L> 



10 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Human Porcupines 130 

Autumn Rhymes 13 1 

When I am Old and Gray 133 

Penitential Prayer 135 

The Soul's Refuge 13G 

The Ninety-seventh Psalm versified 138 

Trust in God 141 

Patient Continuance in Well-Doing 143 



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fines for % fatte aitfr JoMng. 



Miner's fl^M, 

All day long the clouds have drizzled/ 

Drizzled on the earth below, 
Till the trees are ice-befrizzled, 

And like gems the branches glow. 
And twisted twig and slender stem 
Outglory any diadem. 
Were the dull clouds to break away, 

Were the mid-heaven sun to shine. 
The jewel? d world would flash to-day 

As if it were a diamond mine : 
The dwellers on the orbs afar , 

Might gaze in rapturous surprise, 
And shout, "A new-created star 

Is rising in the distant skies !" 



11 



12 winter's phases. 



But drearily the clay runs down. 
And night enfolds us in her frown. 

Gather near the crackling embers — 
Toast the slipper' cl nether members, 

While the wind among the willows 
Sweeps with deep resounding roar, 

Till we seem to hear the billows 
Breaking on the sandy shore. 

What rattles so against the pane, 
Unlike the pattering of the rain ? 
; Tis hail ! 'tis hail ! The rushing blast 
Impels it furiously and fast : 
Like pebbles pelted at a pillory, 
Cracks the storm-cloud's small artillery. 

It ceases now; 

The noiseless snow 
Coquettishly comes sidling down, 

And here and there 

And everywhere 
It lies all o'er the dingy town — 
Like a pure mantle thrown above 
A sinful soul by pitying love. 



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winter's phases. 13 



The wind exults in sportive power; 
Look out, and mark the frosty shower 
It whirls from housetop and from tree 
Till they are bare as poverty, 

And many a heap — 

Half fathom deep — 
Is piled away in quiet nooks; 

And the plastic 

Snow, fantastic. 
Whirls and twirls in curious crooks, 

Until we gaze, 

In feign' d amaze, 
As if it were the work of spooks ! 

How beautiful the morning scene ! 

A single peep 
Reveals what pranks the wind has been 

About throughout 
The hours when we were sound asleep. 
And it has blown against the door 
A heap so high ' twill make us sore 

To bear it hence away; 
And, buried inches deep below 
The surface of the untrodden snow, 

The spade is gone astray ! 

2 



14 winter's phases. 



Who needs must work, and cannot play, 
Alone go forth this snowy day 
Till the path-finders clear the way; 
And then " Hurrah for the gliding sleigh!" 
Cheerily, cheerily now they go — 
Skippingly, trippingly over the snow; 
Ears a-tino;lino; — 
Bells a-jingling — . 
And every belle beside a beau, 
"With eyes a-light and cheeks a-glow; 
Skip it and trip it while ye may, 
For a melting change is coming to-day. 
There's a gentle breeze — it comes from the South- 
As sweet as breath from the milch-kine's mouth; 
And the rays of the sun bend down to kiss 
The ice and the snow, 
And away they go 
As if they perish' d beneath the bliss, 
Like simple souls in human clay 
Whose love has stolen their life away. 

The cold, hard coat earth lately ware 
Grows soft and sleek as muddy ooze; 

And happy those who have good store 
Of patience and impervious shoes. 



winter's phases. 15 



It drips from the cornice — 

It drips from the eaves — 
It drips from the boughs 

That are barren of leaves. 
It thaws in the garden — 

It thaws in the street; 
Alas for the bonnet 

And slight-cover' d feet! 

The smc2ie from our chimney's too lazy to rise, 
And like a sad story brings tears in our eyes; 

While, aching and sneezing 

And shaking and wheezing, 
For weather that's freezing the invalid sighs. 

Lo ! the king of the North 

Again rushes forth, 
A ravenous beast from his lair, 

And, howling and growling, 

Around he goes prowling, 
As fierce as his own polar bear. 
He touches the brooks, and the frighten' d elves 
'Neath roofs of crystal conceal themselves; 
And the earth grows hard as a selfish heart 
That lives from its human-kind apart. 



i 



16 winter's phases. 



The frosty kir>g has ceased his din, 

And cold and quiet night sets in; 

The stars — incomparably "bright — 

Swing near the earth their lamps of light, 

As if to cast a cheering glow 

O'er the dark and frozen world below. 

There is a hearth — I know it well — 

Where love and peace and plenty dwell; 

And thankful hearts are biding there, 

Who praise the Giver in their prayer : — 

And many such are in our land 

Where love and hope link hand in hand;— 

Yet are there not God's poor who shrink, 

On night like this, from every chink, 

And crouch like beasts that have no soul 

Before a dim and dying coal? 

Oh, Thou whose pity, love, and power 

Around us hover every hour, 

Awaken in our breasts the zeal 

To toil for man as well as feel, 

And for the love we bear to Thee 

To comfort poor humanity. 



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Oh where's mj early violets? 

'Tis time they were 

Again astir, 
My pretty, modest, blue-eyed pets ! 

I look'd for them but yestermorn — 

For every day 

I pass that way — 
To see if they had yet been born. 

Til seek again to-morrow noon : 

The ice and snow 

Went long ago, 
So I expect my darlings soon. 

Then I will take my children there, 

And bid them see 

How modesty 

May make the lowliest more than fair. 
2* 17 



F 



It was a gallant ship 

And a goodly company 
That left a peaceful port, and went 

A voyage o'er the sea. 

The winds blew soft and fair, 

And sweet as a holy hymn 
When chanted by the tuneful tongues 

Of heavenly cherubim. 

The mariners' hearts were glad ; 

And they slept without a fear; 
And day and night the ship sped on, 

Till the wish'd-for land was near. 

A little cloud arose, 

And a fire-ball suddenly came 

With a thunder-clap from the little cloud, 

And set the ship on flame. 
18 



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A 



LOST AND SAVED. 19 



A circle was round the moon, 

And the North-Star hid his light ; 

And sorrow and fear fell on the hearts 
Of the mariners that night. 

The burning ship appear' d 

Like a torch in a world of gloom ; 

And they knelt and pray'd to Christ to save 
Their souls from a fiery doom. 

They launched their boats, and lay 

In silence on the sea; 
And there they seem'd alone with God 

In his infinity. 

With a hiss and a sudden plunge, 

The ship sunk in the wave, 
And their fragile boats alone were 'tween 

The voyagers and the grave. 

The morning slowly broke, 

" Ho, a sail ! ho, a sail !" they cried, 
And a lofty vessel, sent of Heaven, 

Came dashing o'er the tide. 



i) 



0==== -= = 

20 LOST AND SAVED. 



Soon safe upon her deck. 
Their terrors were allay' d; 

The mother was not left childless, nor 
The wife a widow made. 

In many an after year, 

His children round his knee, 

The father at his hearthstone told 
The dangers of the sea. 



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Along the city's proudest street 
I heard the tread of many feet ; 
; Neath velvet pail and waving plume. 
They bore a mortal to the tomb. 

Oh, 'twas a grand and proud array. 
And haughty mourners led the way; 
Their scarfs in fashion's style were trimni'd, 
Their eyes with sorrow all undimm'd. 

I sigh'd, and o'er my bosom came 
A sad and sickening pang of shame : 
And I had wept, had not mine eye 
Found cause for worthier sympathy. 

For as I turn'd my feet aside, 

And through a nameless alley hied, 

Slow issuing from an humble shed, 

I saw the poor bring forth their dead. 

21 



Q 

22 THE TWO PROCESSIONS. 



The widow and her orphans twain 
Outpour' d a sad and piteous strain: 
Of husband and of father 'reft, 
What had such hapless mourners left? 

A moment — and the hearse was gone, 
They feebly, faintly following on ; 
With silent tears and aching breast, 
They bore him to his place of rest. 

There in the potter's field he lay, 

As soft as if in holier clay ; 

It matters little where they sleep 

Whom Christ hath promised he will keep. 

The harder toil, the sweeter rest; 
More deeply cross' d, more richly blest; 
And heaven a welcome boon must be 
To such a weary man as he. 

No holy man of God was there 
To utter slow and solemn prayer, 
Or bid them lift their weeping eyes 
To homes and hopes beyond the skies. 



(3= 



— =p 

THE TWO PROCESSIONS. 23 



But God was there; with healing balni ; 
He made the mourners' hearts grow calm : 
They knelt and pray'd, and wondrous grace 
Abounded in that lonely place. 



J 



Jl tfp* at a Mhtkiu. 

But yesternoon my curious eye espied 

A child out-looking through a window-pane : 
Urgent my haste, yet as I onward hied, 

I turn'd to gaze upon the child again. 
Her face was fair, her eyes were bright and blue, 

Her hair hung loosely with peculiar grace 
Of curl or texture, glossiness or hue ; 

But whether more of mirth were in her face, 
Or innocence, or modesty, 'twere not 

An easy word to say. A sweet red spot 
And dimple beautified her cheek, and lent 

A comely aspect to the child. She wore 
No gaudy dress, nor golden ornament; 

In her own native self her chiefest charm she bore. 

24 



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'Twas but a little child — and yet I felt 

Unutterable thrills arise within : 

I thought on what my infant days had been. 
When I before my mother simply knelt, 

And clasp' d my hands and said our Saviour's 
prayer — 
A happy boy, with blue and playful eye, 
And flaxen hair, and cheek that might outvie 

The crimson of the rose. But toil and care 
Have done their wonted work. — Ah me ! how strange 
That years so few should bring such wondrous 
change ! 

This pallid cheek — this calm and serious air — 
This quiet eye — this weary, weary frame — 

Can these be his whose promise was so fair? — 
"With growing hope of heaven, the being is the same ! 

3 25 



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A child came in our school on Sabbath-day — 

A little one, whose years were very few : 

I sat me down, as I am wont to do, 
Beside her, saying, as Fin wont to say, 

"And what's your name, my dear?" She look'd 
at me 
And meekly said, "My name is Mary, sir." 
I felt a yearning of my heart to her : 

"How old are you, my child?" — Then answer' d 
she 
Her years were only four. She had no brother — 
But lived alone at home, she and her mother. 

" Tell me what is your father's name," I said. 
"'My father is in heaven," was her reply, 

And silently she lifted up her head. — 
Ought I be deemed weak if tears o'erfuTd mine eye? 



26 



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Give me a house that's haunted, 
With Love the only sprite; 

I'll dwell in it undaunted, 
Nor fear its utmost spite. 

Though witching tones are swelling 

Above me and beside, 
Where Love is in the dwelling 

I am content to bide. 

If every beam and rafter 
And every stone and tile 

Re-echo with its laughter, 

My heart shall laugh the while. 

The favour' d room or chamber 

Frequented by the ghost, 
I'll gladliest remember, 

And I will prize it most. 

27 



F — = 

28 THE HOUSE LOVE-HAUNTED. 



When morn is stilly breaking, 
And earth is growing light, 

I'll tremble not if, waking, 
Mine eyes behold the sprite. 

If, as the day grows older, 
The heavenly-temper' d thing 

Taps tenderly my shoulder, 
Rejoicingly I'll sing. 

When in the midnight lonely 
Day's brighter scenes are hid, 

I'll sweetly sleep if only 
Love stirs the coverlid. 

I'd ever be enchanted 

By Love's bewitching spell, 
And in a house love-haunted 

I would my life-long dwell. 

And when my time is ending, 
And heaven is coming nigh, 

Let Love, my soul attending, 
Go with me to the sky. 



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Have pity on the poor, good gentlefolks; 

For they are cold and hungry. Starving pain 
Is hard to bear, and oftentimes provokes 

The deed of infamy and crime, t' obtain 
The bread that honest labour fails to earn. 
Have pity on the poor; nor coldly turn 

The ear away from their distressful sighs. 
Spurn not too rudely e'en the beggar — he 
Has fallen far, yet let his misery 

Plead with your heart and dew your tender eyes. 
Oh pity him ! Perchance 'twas strong temptation 

That drew him to this fate : perchance 'twas grief 
For loss of all. Deep is the desolation 

Of an unfriended heart. Vouchsafe him some relief. 

Have pity on the poor — the hidden ones, 

Who shut their sorrows in their hearts, — the worn 

And weary man, — the widow, and her sons 

And daughters fatherless, — the overborne. 

Have pity on the hapless slave of toil, 

3* 29 



Q " t: = 

30 PITY, GOOD GENTLEFOLKS. 



The patient, gentle, fragile sewing-girl, 
Whose thin and sunken cheek is pale as pearl, 

Whose slender fingers constantly must moil, 
To wring from masters the small weekly dole 
That barely binds the body and the soul. 

And ye fine ladies, beautiful and proud, 

Whose delicate forms are clad in rich array, 

Remember those whose sister-heads are bow'd 
With toil for you, endured by night and day. 

Ye flitting moths — ye butterflies of fashion — 
Ye pinching, hard, unfeeling things of pride — 

Aristocrats of pompousness and passion, 

Who sternly brush the humble man aside — 

Ye who increase upon the poor man's labour — 
Who reap the harvest ye have never sown — 
Who eat the fruit that other men have grown, — 

The Lord has said : u The wretched is your neigh- 
bour. " 
Your brother too. And in the Father's heart 

(Who holds the world within His love, and gives 

Its daily food to every thing that lives) 
Perchance he has a large and loving part. 

Be kind and pitiful while yet ye may, 

And sweep somewhat of human wo away. 



a= 



PITY, GOOD GENTLEFOLKS. 31 



The world is dark; and who for Jesus' sake 
Do good to man, are like the city lamps : 

Their rays throughout surrounding darkness break, 
And cheer the wanderer in the midnight damps. 

They pale at breaking of the morn : but soon 
The sun majestic shall arise, and pour 

A flood of radiance from the skies' mid-noon : 
Their little lamps are needed then no more. 

Absorb' d and lost in heavenly love and glory, 
Their ravish' d minds then hear the Saviour say, 
"Ye did it to the suffering sons of clay, 

And so 'twas done to Me." The immortal story 
O'er the wide plains of Paradise shall fly, 
And crowds descend to welcome them on high. 



JD 



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SejJtemljer lain* 

Patter — patter — 
Listen how the rain-drops clatter, 
Falling on the shingle roof; 
How they rattle, 
Like the rifle's click in battle, 
Or the charger's iron hoof! 

Cool and pleasant 
Is the evening air at present, 

Gathering freshness from the rain; 
Languor chasing, 
Muscle, thew, and sinew bracing, 
And enlivening the brain. 

Close together 
Draw the bands of love in weather 
When the sky is overcast; 

32 



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===== — p 

SEPTEMBER RAIN. 33 



Eyeballs glisten — • 
Thankfully we sit and listen 
To the rain that's coming fast. 

Dropping — dropping 
Like dissolving diamonds, — popping 
' Gainst the crystal window-pane, 
As if seeking 
Entrance-welcome, and bespeaking 
Our affection for the rain. 

Quick, and quicker 
Come the droppings, — thick, and thicker 
Pour the hasty torrents down : 
Rushing — rushing — 
From the leaden spouts a-gushing, 
Cleansing all the streets in town. 

Darkness utter 
Gathers round; — we close the shutter; 
Snugly shelter'd let us keep. 
Still unceasing 
Falls the rain; but oh! His pleasing 
'Neath such lullaby to sleep. 



=fl 



34 SEPTEMBER RAIN. 



How I love it ! 

Let the miser money covet — 

Let the soldier seek the fight; 

Give me only, 

"When I lie awake and lonely. 

Music made by rain at night. 



=D 



%\t 6M anlr Wamm. 



A cheery-minded maiden, 
Just stepping o'er the line 

Where womanhood and girlhood 
Their boundaries combine; 

The joyousness of girlhood, 
The woman's conscious pride. 

Commingled like the sunlight 
In dalliance with the tide. 

Her lips emitted music 

That thrills my bosom yet ; 

Her eyes were bright as dew-drops 
Upon a violet. 

I say not she was handsome— 

That may or may not be ; 

But she, in every feature, 

Was beautiful to me. 

35 



u — = 

36 THE GIRL AND WOMAN. 



I saw her, and I loved her — 
I sought her, and I won; 

A dozen pleasant summers, 

And more, since then have run; 

And half as many voices, 
Now prattling by her side, 

Kemind me of the autumn 
When she became my bride. 



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%a §0b. 



I bear you malice, Bob? — not I, indeed. 

I can't afford it, Bob. It costs too dear 
To hate a human soul. I'd rather bleed 

Than thrust the point of hate's envenom* d spear 
In any mortal's breast. No, no ! I say. 

How could I seek a pardon at His hand 

"Who in The Book has left His stern command 
That we must pardon others ere we pray ? 

There's far too much of selfishness in me 
To sell my comfort for hate's paltry pay : 

Of other's love I've grown too miserly 
To cast it rashly, wickedly away. 

Love is the all we have of heaven here ; 

If that were gone, this life were desolate and drear. 

There is a bias, Bob, in every man 

To go astray. So was I taught in youth, 

And later years have shown to me its truth. 

Has there been ^ne who without halting ran 
4 37 



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38 TO BOB. 

The course of life ? If any such there be, 

He's clad in more than our humanity : 
And I am not the man, for I am frail, 

As all earth's children are. One — only One — 

Once lived on earth by whom no wrong was done. 
Though through infirmity I oft may fail, 

Yet if, friend Bob ! when suddenly assail' d, 
I answer' d sharply when I should have smiled 

And own'd that you had but jocosely rail'd, 
Think not my mind by malice was beguiled. « 



J 



The ice has come ! The cold-lipp'd Frost has kiss'd 
The waters while they slept at night; his breath 
Has fiVd them in a torpor, as of death : 

Nor shrub nor flower the midnight ranger miss'd, 
But on them all he laid his fatal fingers. 

He touch' d the trees; and when the sun comes forth 
And warms the leaves, they fall in sudden showers ; 
The change from frost to sunny heat overpowers 
The feeble health that in them faintly lingers. 

The blast is keen this morning from the north; 

All tender things are dying day by day; 

Soon, soon will they be gone, and seen no more, 

And we shall stand on nature's wintry shore, 

The gentle dreams of summer having passed away. 

39 



JD 



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What a pity — 

Biding in the parched city 

All the fiery summer through ! 
Dry and dusty, 

Soul and body getting rusty, 
Lacking will to think or do. 

Ever growing 
Hot and hotter — fiercely glowing 
From the morning till the noon; 
Hot and hotter, 
Like the furnace of the potter 
When it sings its 'custoni'd tune. 

Not a pitcher 
Full of water, to make rich, or 
Mollify the baken ground, 
40 



D 

THE CITY-BOUND. 41 



Falls from heaven 
From the sunrise till the even — 
All is dustiness profound. 

Of the ices. 
Hundred hundred-weight suffices 
Not to cool the city's heat; 
Drinking, drinking 
Is in vogue instead of thinking — 
Frozen water is our meat. 

Oh for fountains 
Running down from icy mountains ! 
Oh for palaces of cream ! 
Oh for shadows 
Cast by trees o'er pleasant meadows 
Dreamt of in a poet's dream ! 

Oh to wander 
Where the tinkling rills meander 
Down the hill-side to the strand, — 

Often stooping, 

Draughts of cooling water scooping 

With the hollow of my hand. 
4* 



=D 



Q 

42 THE CITY-BOUND. 



Oh what pity 
In the hot and parched city 
To abide the summer through ! 
Dry and dusty, 
Soul and body growing musty — 
Lacking strength to will or do. 



r%- 



He was a man endowed like other men 

With strange varieties of thought and feeling : 

His bread was earn'd by daily toil; yet when 
A pleasing fancy o'er his mind came stealings 

He set a trap and snared it by his art, 

And hid it in the bosom of his heart. 
He nurtured it and loved it as his own, 

And it became obedient to his beck; 

He fix'd his name on its submissive neck, 
And graced it with all graces to him known, 

And then he bade it lift its wing and fly 
Over the earth, and sing in every ear 
Some soothing sound the sighful soul to cheer, 

Some lay of love to lure it to the sky. 

43 



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%\t pint's Ailment sift |tow&a. 



GHj* gUImmt. 

For many days I walk'd beneath a cloud 

Which no sun-ray found any passage through : 
The mid-noon like the depth of midnight grew, 

And my faint soul was in the darkness bow'd. 

Uneomforted, I wander* d mid the crowd, 
Where all were busy, eager, earnest, gay; 

Some idly chatting, others laughing loud, 
And friend saluting friend along his way. 

Amid them all, I was alone — alone; 

A yearning man, and with a human heart, 
From other men set seemingly apart; 

Mine ear receiving not a friendly tone, 

Mine eye perceiving not an answering gleam ; 
And life was nigh become a dim and dreary 
dream. 

44 



a= 



=D 



THE SPIRIT'S AILMENT AND REMEDY. 



45 



When overcome with darkness and dejection. 
And wintry clcuds o'ercast the mental sky, 

'Tis good to stir the ashes of affection, 

And gather up love's embers ere they die, 

And breathe upon the coals, and add new fuel; — 

The fire of love needs, frequently, renewal — 

Supplies of tenderness and deeds of kindness, 
And tones of sympathy and gentle meaning — 
A brother's faults benevolently screening, 

(For love is nurtured by a purposed blindness.) 

Thrice blessed he who finds it in his heart 

To follow Christ! Then sadness spreads her 

wings, 
And pleasantly the soul within him sings; 

And of the good he does, he shares a double part. 



£ 



Cr- 



Ji f kit for Htm atfo Inifg. 



"Two men of the Hebrews strove together, and he said to him that 
did the wrong, Wherefore smitest thou thy fellow ?"~- Exodus ii. 13. 



Ye blessed sons and daughters 
Whose ministry is peace ; 

Pour oil upon the waters 

And cause their rage to cease. 

men of mine own nation. 

Will any idle stand 
While rank infatuation 

Is perilling the land? 

If sin is on our brother, 

Whence comes to us the right 

The bosom of our mother 

With brutal hand to smite? 
46 



(3= 



--=£) 

A PLEA FOR PEACE AND UNITY. 47 



Will human blood like water 
Wash human sin away? 

Will fratricidal slaughter 
Bring in a holier day? 

Shall women, wildly weeping 
Their sons and husbands dead, 

Pray that a curse unsleeping 
Rest on a kinsman's head? 

For son against the father, 
And father 'gainst the son, 

In fierce array may gather 
Till murder's doubly done ! 

Shall we renounce this Eden, 
Where G-od has brought us in, 

And leave to men succeeding 
The heir-loom of our sin ? 

Why bid our natural foemen 

Rejoicingly to cry, 
" Behold the welcome omen, 

That Freedom's doom'd to die !" 



=D 



48 A PLEA FOR PEACE AND UNITY. 



Why quench the beacon's burning 
Whose radiance lights the sky, 

To which all nations, turning, 
Look with a hopeful eye ? 

If now its flame ye smother, 
Ye quench the hopes of men : 

How long before another 
Shall light the world again ? 

While with majestic motion 

Our valley rivers run, 
And, ere they swell the ocean, 

Form an harmonious one — 

So long may love incline us 
(Let every patriot pray) 

With olive-leaves to twine us, 
Till Time's concluding day ! 



o= 



=jn 



fines to fig jtyets. 

M^eonides rehearsed a tale of arms. 

And jNaso told of curious metamorphoses; 

Unmnnber'd pens have pictured woman's charms. 
While crazy Lee made poetry on porpoises : 

But mine the glory to recount thy worth, 
crystal Specs ! that stand' st invisibly 
Before mine eyes, and giv'st them power to see 

What else they had not seen in heaven or earth. 
Thou second sight that sham'st old Scotia's seers! 

Thou vision-giver of the scenes that lie 

Beyond the reach of unanointed eye, 

Far, far away in sight-confounding spheres ! 

Thou scal'st the very fortress of the stars, 

And climb'st its gate for me, and lettest down the bars 

Without thee, what were life ? A misty vision, 

A murky morn, ne'er breaking from its gloom; 

A barren world, without a field elysian — 

A weary waste, with not a flower in bloom ! 
5 49 



50 LINES TO MY SPECS. 



When, in time past, thou gottest first a-straddle, 
This nose of mine, a sort of nasal saddle, 

Mine optics caper' d in the field of sight, 
Like a young horse let loose among the clover, 
That kicks his heels, and flies the meadow over, 

And loudly whinnies in his fond delight : 
Now, soberer grown, I sit like reverend sage 

Beside the hearth-stone while old Winter blows; 

I place thee on my patriarchal nose, 
And ponder gravely Wisdom's pregnant page. 

Art's wondrous world thou layest bare to me; 

The painter's skill, the sculptor's graceful line: 

Thou openest the entrance to the mine 
Of hidden treasures of philosophy; 
Or, by thy magic power, I plume the wing, 

And fly to realms where deathless poets dwell : 
I hear the lays their lips immortal sing, 

And list the tales their tongues were wont to tell. 
By thee I scan the " human face divine," 

The pleasing study loved so long and well; 
I mark the graces that within it shine, 

When in the breast the deep emotions swell, 
Till mine own heart impulsively gives vent 
To streams of gladness and affection blent. 



=D 



I|e fmtmt in % gMIing. 



An awful Presence fills the silent dwelling — 
The dread Unseen unwelcornely is there; 

And stricken bosoms piteously are swelling, 
And pallid lips are quivering in prayer. 

The household band, from the young, timid lisper 
To hoary grandam, sit in sad dismay; 

Their words are few, and spoken in a whisper, 
While wofully they wait the coming day. 

Meek as a lamb, a victim there is lying — 
A deathly paleness covering all his face : 

His mortal frame is slowly, surely dying — 
His soul is strong, and comforted by grace. 



So loving is he in his last behaviour, 

His heart is touched by sorrowing friends' distress : 

"Be thou this widow's G-od, Lord ;uy Saviour, 

And Father be to these my fatherless." 

51 



ft 



52 THE PRESENCE IN THE DWELLING. 



Before the Presence, mute is the physician; 

No drug can heal the fatal wound of Death; 
And deaf alike to threatening or petition, 

He seals his victory with the parting breath. 

The shadowy night, while all the earth is sleeping, 
Moves slowly on, and morning brings its cares; 

The dead is here — -but in the world unweeping 
Another brow a crown of glory wears. 



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%\t StiiKf at % top*. 

The slanderer mingles falsehood with the truth, 

And serves the devil in his viler work. 

Within his lips there may be said to lurk 
A fang more deadly than the cobra's tooth. 

With keen, insane, insatiable delight, 
He marks the accents of a victim's tongue; 

On idle words he sates his appetite, 
And forth he goes, disgorging them among 

A world of slander-lovers. Magnifying 
The more they're spread, they tingle on the ear: 
And those who tell the tale, and those who hear, 

Are apt confederates in the work of lying : 
Thru a fair fame among the slanderers thrown 
Is gr. aw*d as hungry dogs delight to gnaw a bone. 

More cruel is the slanderer than the snake ; 

He ^pits his venom on a man's good name, 

Until the guiltless bows his head in shame, 

And the fine fibres of his spirit break. 

5* 53 



=D 



0= ===== — — = p 

54 THE STING OF THE TONGUE. 



The world avers, because his countenance changes 
When some vile charge is made, that "'tis a sign 

The man is guilty;" "that it very strange is;" 
"And he deserves a punishment condign." 

But innocence is like the sensitive leaf; 
Whene'er 'tis touch' d by Lreathings of suspicion, 

It trembles in an agony of grief, 
And men misjudge its sorrowful condition : 

While brazen guilt confronts a righteous charge, 
And blustering like a braggart, walks the earth at 
lame. 



a • o 



fto gtot % fort to Cat '%w Htftoit. 



r ve not the heart to cut them down ! 

These dry and dusty flowers, 
That spring and summer smiled upon, 

And fed with dews and showers : 
I know they're dead; their leaves have flown, 

Their stalks are crisp and brown; 
Yet they may stand till winter's gone — 

I cannot cut them down ! 

I've not the heart to cut them down ! 

For during summer's heat, 
iVhile pent within the sultry town, 

They sprang up round my feet : 
Ihey look'd up in my face and smiled, 

And comforted my soul, 
So that I, like a chasten' d child, 

Endured my daily dole. 

55 



zD 



Or 



56 i've not the heart to cut them down. 



I've not the heart to cut them down ! 

They were my garden's pride, 
And when the buds were fully blown 

Their fragrance wander' d wide, 
And freely enter' d at my door 

Below, around, above, 
Till from the ceiling to the floor 

The house was sweet with love ! 

I've not the heart to cut them down ! 

It may be they will fall 
When "Winter casts his heavy crown 

Of snow upon them all : 
Yet if they stand till Spring shall lay 

Her blessing on the earth, 
I'll gently bear the dead away, 

While kindred flowers have birth ! 



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r- — D 



jjrapr for gain 



If the bine skies serenely shone for aye. 

And clonds wept not, but like the fleecy feather 
Sail'd lightly on the air, — and night and day 

Evinced the same stability of weather, — 
How soon were earth enrobed in mourning weeds ! 

The springs would fail, — the rivulets run dry, — 
The panting herds would seek the river reeds, 

And every weak and tender thing would die. 
Nor rain nor dew the grass and flowers to feed, 

Deep desolation tyrant-like would reign; 

To dust his breath would turn the withered plain; 
And man, the heir of misery indeed, 

Might lift his hand, and to his Maker pray; 
And words like these, perchance, his quivering lips 
would say : 

gracious Father! send us showers, 

The gentle showers of rain, 
To cheer the corn, the grass, the flowers, 

On mountain-side and plain. 



=b 



M 

58 PRAYER FOR RAIN. 



Command the pregnant clouds to rise 

And vail the fiery sun, 
While from the fountains of the skies 

The streams of blessing run. 

gracious Father ! send us showers ; 

The cattle mutely stand 
Amid the scorch' d and wither' d bowers ; - 

Have mercy on our land ! 
The spider's web is on the mead, 

The worm consumes the leaf; 
And all thy works before Thee plead 

The silent plea of grief. 

gracious Father! send us showers; 

Regard our earnest cries; 
But meek submission still be ours 

While our petitions rise. 
To Thee each living thing looks up; 

Thou mad'st — thou'lt not destroy: 
The overflow of mercy's cup 

Shall wake creation's joy. 



(3= 



& Miasm toitjf rag |m* 



silent solace of my lonely time, 
Beloved pen ! why so reserved of late ? 

Hast thou renounced all fellowship with rhyme, 
And grown at once both rusty and sedate ? 

Art thou a- weary with thy journeyings o'er 

The paper plain, and wilt thou go no more ? 

Or is thy jetty fluid all expended; 

The standish dry ? — or hast thou lost the art 
Of limning well the passions of the heart ? 

Or art thou, like a touchy thing, offended 

Because thou hast so long time been untended ? 
Bo tell what is the matter; let me know 
Why is't, my friend, that thou behavest so, 

And all thy grievances ; shall soon be ended. 

Stoutly the pen replied: "G-ood master mine! 

Thy willing servant 'tis my pride to be : 

Why chide me when the blame is only thine? 

But seldom lately dost thou fondle me; 

59 

hf 



60 A COLLOQUY WITH MY PEN. 



Seldom dost thou, with mild and musing air, 
Doze dreamingly on thy accustom' d chair; 

To spread the sheet but seldom dost thou come, 
And in thy former firm, affectionate way, 

Embrace me 'tween thy finger and thy thumb, 
To note thy flitting thought. Wo worth the day 

When I no more may share thy fond regard ! 
Who'd wish to live when he no more is prized? 
My throat is dry — my frame is oxidized; 

Indeed, good sir, you use me very hard ! J> 

Nay, faithful pen ! somewhat have I to say 

In my behalf. Mine is a busy life; 
And man, remember, is a pipe of clay, 

And often breaks while hardening in the strife 
And fiery fury of this world's red oven, 

And needs a time for soldering and cooling — 
An idling-time, though he be not a sloven, 

To mend his ways, and cease from self-befooling. 
Then too remember, pen ! the summer weather, 
When every thing seem'd doom'd to melt together. 

The mind, besides, may have its wintry season, 
When feeling flags, and all the mental sap 

Runs down into the root, and rhyme and reason 
And thought and fancy take a quiet nap. 



a= 



=Q 

A COLLOQUY WITH MY PEN. 81 



Remember further, pen ! I'm growing older, 

And lazier too, perchance, in my estate; 
Or it may be, too much is on my shoulder, 

And I bow down a little 'neath the weight; 
Or I may think my wit has lost its salt, 

If ever truly thus 'twas impregnate; 

Or I may murmur at the poet's fate, 
E'en though he be the sinner chief in fault : — 
Be what the cause, say not I love thee less, 

Nor chide me that I love thee not the more; 

Some days like early ones may be in store, 
When I again thy polish' d form shall press, 

And I create, and thou daguerreotype 
The thinkings of my mind in every shade and stripe. 



=£> 



p" 



Jl Spring Sonnet. 

The maiden-hearted spring has come. The weeping 

And smiling skies alternate o'er us reign; 

The grass is springing verdant on the plain, 
And little germs that long time have been sleeping 
Beneath the sod are timidly up-peeping; 

Sweet buds and blossoms thick are putting forth. 
As if in confidence of Heaven's sure keeping, 

And fearless of the threatenings of the north. 
The flowers will soon be here, and bees will come; 

The notes of spring and summer birds will ring, 

And winds, and brooks, and birds in concert sing, 
And make the human soul leap up in gladness, 

Save the sad hearts who, in their des'late home, 
Do weep the loved and lost, though not in hopeless 

sadness. 

62 



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=Q 



Once me thought I saw an angel 
Smiling in a maiden's eyes. 

And my heart was captive taken, 
Like a city by surprise. 

Then it seem'd another angel, 

Springing upward from my heart, 

From mine eyes look'd on the other, 
And beheld its counterpart. 

At the moment of the greeting, 
From her lips no whisper fell; 

And before her I was silent, 
Rapt in a delicious spell. 

Love, awaking in my bosom — 
Love of pure impulses born — 

Lighted up my happy pathway, 
Like a sun of summer morn. 

63 



=D 



64 THE ANGEL IN A MAIDEN' S EYES. 



Mark'd for mine the gentle maiden 
With the angel in her eyes^ 

Years agone we link'd our fortunes 
By indissoluble ties. 



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JD 



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%\t gear ©\\i i\t ^ami. 

Oft as I wander in fashion's crowded way ; 
What numbers I see of the beautiful and gay ! 
With gold and with diamonds resplendent though 

they be. 
There's a dear one at home more beautiful to me. 

Graceful as antelopes, and rouged with cunning 
skill, 

A glance from their eyelids has potency to kill; 
Their tones are as soft as the buzzing of a bee, 
Yet a dear one at home is more beautiful to me. 

Proudly their carriages roll along the street, 
With coachman and footman and livery complete; 
The fair ones within them may frown disdainfully — 
The dear one at home is beautiful to me. 
6* 65 



(3= 



66 THE DEAR ONE AT HOME. 



They dwell in palaces, and mine's a lowlier lot; 
But grandeur and palaces my soul will covet not. 
If only at eventide I hear the melody 
Of the dear one at home, so beautiful to me. 

Our fireside has prattlers, whose laughing eyes 

are set 
As brightly as diamonds within a violet; 
And when, light as fairies, they spring upon my 

knee, 
I love more the dear one so beautiful to me. 

Yv r hen I am weary and faint and overfraught, 
I think of my home, and am happy in my thought; 
The weight of my burden reminds me lovingly, 
There's a dear one at home to lighten it to me. 



U n 



=D 



%\t Jp0Htt jof % Japlwi 



WRITTEN AFTER A VISIT TO THE BLOCKLEY ALMSHOUSE. 

Humanity in its despised conditions; 

Ye tender ones whose hands are soft as down ; 
Is oft too touching in its exhibitions 

To wake a dainty or unpitying frown. 

For here ; apart from all the self-relying. 

The spirit-broken desolate abide : 
Dead souls ; anibitionless and unreplying, 

Their hopes long buried in the grave with pride. 

And here are those by food and shelter cherish' d ; 

And clad in clothing that is not their own ; 
Who on life's highway else outright had -perish' d. 

Or stagger' d on with many an inward groan. 

Here ; too, are those whose minds are gone demented, 

Served tenderly and nursed with healing care; 

67 



dJ 



68 THE HOME OF THE HAPLESS. 



Their shrewdest cunning wisely circumvented 
Till reason sits in her accustomed chair. 

Small children, on the shore of life's deep ocean, 
Like waifs pick'd up by charitable hands, 

Are nurtured here with woman's own devotion, 
And bound in virtue's time-enduring bands. 

A refuge-place for Penury's sons and daughters, 
Where they may ease its bitterness and smart; 

Bethesda's pool, where angels stir the waters, 
And proffer healing for the bleeding heart. 

Thanks be to God, the wretched may be tended, 
Although his kinsmen all be far away : 

Thanks to His name, the orphan is befriended 
When father, mother sleep beneath the clay. 

Thanks be to God, that Christian love prevaileth 
Against the sin and selfishness of earth : 

Thanks to His name that charity ne'er faileth, 
But now, as ever, shows its heavenly birth. 



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^ tontrg SaWra% 

The frost in its beauty lies over the meadows. 
Like down newly shaken from winter's young 
wing; 

The sun is ascending, and skeleton shadows 
The trees in their nakedness pensively fling. 

The morning is silent, save when the brook's flowing 

Awakens a music like silvery bells, 
Or where the cock's crowing, or gentle kine's 
lowing, 

Of home and its treasures of charity tells. 

The smoke from the homestead, one wreath on 

another, 

Like incense arises from piety's hearth, 

Where father and mother, and sister and brother 

In harmony worship the Lord of the earth. 

69 



AJ 



70 A COUNTRY SABBATH. 



The sun lights the vane of a far-away steeple, 
The sound of a bell is borne faintly along, 

And staidly and peacefully gather the people, 
To join in the prayer and awaken the song. 

The calm of devotion refreshes the spirit, 
The soul is set down to a banquet of bliss; 

The ministering angel must surely be near it, 
For earth can provide no enjoyment like this. 



The day is departing — the shadows are denser; 

The shrilly-voiced cock and the cattle are still; 
The cold of the north becomes keen and intenser, 

And freezes to silence the tongue of the rill. 

The arch of the heavens is glowing with glory, 
For diamond-lit lanterns, by angels outhung, 

Swing over the earth, and a marvellous story 
(While man is unconscious) by seraphs is sung. 



a= 



"V 



A COUNTRY SABBATH. 71 



The darkness of night like a mantle is lying 

On the children of joy and the children of sorrow. 

Who, while the still moments nnheeded are flying, 
Lie down in the hope of a better to-morrow. 

When the locks of old age shall fall down on my 
shoulder, 

If the wisdom of Heaven so lengthen my time, 
Oh may I present to the youthful beholder 

A vision as peaceful — an end as sublime ! 



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cr 



%\t fat. 



A hat's the dome, the steeple-top of thought — 
The attic room, the cockloft of the head — 

The hive where fancy's honey-bees are caught, 
Which, else, beyond the memory's reach had fled. 

A hat, well-brush' d, 's a cap-stone to the man ; 
Corinthian column he, with cap to match — 

A column it were poetry to scan, 

And with a glance its fine proportions catch. — 

A crownless hat lacks poetry; and he 

(Whoe'er the miserable man may be) 

Whose tangled hair stands peering through the crown, 

Far from the graces quite hath tumbled down : 
Sans hat, sans coat, sans character, sans all — 
Who thus hath fallen, how piteous is his fall ! 

72 



0= 



=D 



toi-p^ mi\t$. 



A blessing on niy babes to-night, 
A blessing on their mother; 

A blessing on my kinsmen light, 
Each loving friend and brother. 

A blessing on the toiler rest; 

The over-worn and weary; 
The desolate and comfortless, 

To whom the earth is dreary. 

A blessing on the child to-night ; 

A blessing on the hoary; 
The maiden clad in beauty bright, 

The young man in his glory. 

A blessing on my fellow-race, 

Of every clime and nation : 

May they partake His saving grace 

Who died for our salvation. 

7 73 



74 GOOD-NIGIIT WISHES. 



If any man have wrought me wrong, 
Still blessings be upon him; 

May I in love to him be strong, 
Till charity have won him. 

Thy blessings on me ; from of old, 
My God! I cannot number; 

I wrap me in their ample fold, 
And sink in trustful slumber. 



JLstent jof 3i Sintljong's Hose, 

We climb'd St. Anthony's Xose; 

Its sides were powder' d with snows, 
Yet up to the summit we rose 
By favour of fingers and toes. 

The labour was toilsome and Ions; 
Our wills were sturdy and strong, 
Each sinew was tough as a thong, 
And our spirits were light as a song. 

The track of the rabbit was there, 
And the path of the fox to his lair ; 
And prints — perhaps of a bear — 
Admonish* d us " Boys, have a care I" 

The partridges rose with a whirr, 
And many a quail did we stir; 
We harmless and weaponless were, 
And harm'd not their feathers and fur. 



76 ASCENT OF ST. ANTHONY'S NOSE. 



As cliff after cliff we attained, 

A cliff still higher remain'd; 

Our strength more sternly we strain' d, 

For a failure we proudly disdain' d. 

So upward and onward we went, 
And — ere we were totally spent — 
Accomplish' d our purposed intent, 
And stood on the topmost ascent. 

We witness' d the Hudson below, 
Roll on with its glorious flow, 
While Lilliput vessels did go 
With Lilliput men to and fro. 

To see what more we might spy, 
We climb' d an oaken tree nigh; 
But mountains and river and sky 
Outran the reach of the eye 

We roll'd some rocks down the hill 
Along the bed of a rill ; 
They went with a rush and a will — 
I hear them, I fancy me, still. 



Cfe 



ASCENT OF ST. ANTHONY S NOSE. 77 



Majestic each awful rebound, 
As the rocks whirl' d madly around, 
And frequent their clattering sound 
Came up from the solemn profound. 

The days of boyhood and youth — 
Ere we'd an aching eye-tooth, 
When fun was mingled with ruth — 
Seem'd present in primitive truth. 

So much delight did we sip, 
Our joy ran over the lip, 
As drops from a bucket will drip 
That late in the well had a dip. 

But feeding on ideal food 
Can do the stomach no good; 
We soon got over that mood, 
And a course descending pursued. 

A bright look-out did we keep 
As we slid each threatening steep; 
And now did we warily creep, 

And then took a slide and a leap. 

7* 



=D 



78 ASCENT OF ST. ANTHONY'S NOSE. 



We'd done all we had design'd 
The day before in our mind, 
And now, as our hunger inclined, 
We went to the village and dined. 

If, at some notable time, 
The Swiss Jungfrau we should climb, 
I'll tell it in verse more sublime, 
Though not in a livelier rhyme. 



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itoto ftax'j &te k k $03 an t\t jtoiatra. 



We pass'd the night at Yonkers; 

The fog above — the fog below 

Had made it quite unsafe to go 
A-s teaming down the river. 

The captain wouldn't — 

Couldn't — shouldn't 
Peril lives 

. Of maidens, wives 

And husbands, brothers, 

Fathers, mothers — 
No wonder he did shiver. 

So there we lay 

Half on our way, 
Yet not a soul was fain to stay. 

The darkness horrid 
Deeply loom'd; 

And aft and for'ard 

Were en tomb' d. 

The drizzly drops around us fell, 

The essence of the fog distill' d; 

79 



=b 



Q- "^ = 

80 NEW YEAR'S EVE ON THE HUDSON. 



Our bosom's anguish who can tell, 
With hope of home so rudely chill' d? 
And there we sate 
In silent state, 
And like the kine did ruminate. 
Without debate 
The joy was great — 
When tea-time came — to masticate. 

It hath been never 
That a man could eat for ever; 
And soon the tea 
Was no more 'niong the things that be. 
Some did this, and some did that — 
Some were silent — some did chat; 
Some frown' d, and others loudly laugh' d 
As if a cup of fun they'd quaff' d; 
When, lo ! a silent gathering — 
A preacher rose to pray : 
And when he'd said his solemn say, 
Then we began to sing, 
To "Auld Lang Syne/' 
u When I can read my title clear." 

And oh ! it made this heart of mine 
Dance lightly as a mountain deer 
When summer mornings shine. 



o= 



m 

NEW YEAR'S EYE ON THE HUDSON. 81 



Though we were met as strangers there, 
We own'd our brotherhood; 

And, joining in the social prayer, 
Before our Father stood. 

I felt assured the Father's eye 

Look'd kindly on that company. 

The Old Year now was wellnigh gone — 

The remnant sands were falling, 
When suddenly there broke upon 

Our ears the din of brawling. 
Some rowdies bound for Gotham city, 

Thus prison' d on the route, 

Obtuse to gentleness or pity, 

Grot huge horse-fiddles out : 

They rang a bell, 

And sprang the rattle 

With many a yell 
As if of battle : 
And though no human lost his life, 
Yet " sleep was murder' d" in the strife. 
Quietly, quietly, 
Snug in a corner, 

Sat a small company, 
Fearing no evil and heeding no scorner. 



82 NEW YEAR'S EVE ON THE HUDSON. 



Tired of singing, 
Sleep her sweet poppies upon them was flinging; 
But scarce had an eyelid 
Reposed on its fellow, 
Ere sleep ran off frighten' d 
As the wild bellow 
And shout of the b'hoys 
Astounded the Highlands with thundering noise. 
No rest was there to be found 

For the drowsy head; 
The noise of the riotous drown' d 
(It truly were said) 
The snore of the sleeper, and woke him outright, 
As mad as a bull and ready for fight. 
So, groaning, aching, 
Chilly, shaking, 
Stretching, yawning, 
We awaited morning's dawning. 
Wo-begone and vigil-worn, 
Every human 
Man and woman 
Grew dishearten'd and forlorn. 
Oh, how dreary 
Sacl and weary 
Was that night at Yonkers! 



Ch 



=D 



f a ftxaMmm fig- 

What ! here again, indomitable pest ! 

Thou plagu'st me like a supernatural sprite; 

Thou makest me the butt of all thy spite, 
And bitest ine, and buzzest as in jest. 

Ten times I've closed my heavy lids in vain 
This early morn to court an hour of sleep ; 
For thou — tormentor ! — constantly dost keep 

Thy whizzing tones resounding through my brain, 
Or lightest on my sensitive nose, and there 
Thou trinim'st thy wings and shak'st thy legs of hair : 

Ten times I've raised my hand in haste to smite, 
But thou art off; and ere I lay my head 
And fold mine arms in quiet on my bed, 

Thou com'st again — I feel thy buzzing bite. 

As Uncle Toby says, "The world is wide 

Enough for thee and me." Then go, I pray, 
And through this world do take some other way, 

And let us travel no more side by side. 

83 



=D 



84 TO A TROUBLESOME FLY. 



Go — live among the flowers — go anywhere; 
Or to the empty sugar-hogshead go, 
That standeth at the grocer's store below; 

Go suit thy taste with any thing that's there. 
There's his molasses-measure; there's his cheese, 
And ham and herring : — What ! will nothing please ? 

Presumptuous imp ! then die ! — But no ! I'll smite 
Thee not; for thou, perchance, art young in days, 
And rather green as yet in this world's ways; 

So live and suffer — age may set thee right. 



v -6 



=Q 



f GStlnimons fmt 



Death sanctifies the poet. While he lives. 

Men seem to think he is an idler here; 

And cold and heartless often is the cheer 
The world to him in wanton measure gives. 
Perhaps he asks too much when he has sung 

A lay that long shall humanize his race; 
For him — a mortal with an angel's tongue — 

Perchance the earth has no befitting place; 

Perchance too soon he lives — perchance too late; 
Or he is poor, or lacks a family name 
Renown'd for glory or renown'd for shame; 

Perchance — too great to murmur at his fate — 
He toils, and dies a toiler at the oar : — 
Then men remember him, and his sad fate deplore. 



=D 



CT 



P#to fnmft % awxklai 



The grave is very deep — 

The grave is very cold, 
To lay a baby in, to sleep, 

When scarce a twelvemonth old — 
An infant who was wont to rest 
Close nestled to his mother's breast. 

; Tis scarce a sin to heave 

Affection's natural sigh, 
That God has bidden us to leave 

The child alone to lie — 
The gentle-minded little one — 
The first, the last, the only son. 

We lay him here in hope, 

To wait the coming day, 
When God shall call a cherub up 

From this unconscious clay; 
We shall behold him glorified — 
This lamb for whom a Saviour died. 



CL 



=£> 



On the Death of his Daughter, Sally Summers, December 9, 1851. 

Has death, my gentle brother, pluck'd a bud — 

A precious bud — from thy sweet tree of love ? 

And did the depths of thy fond nature move, 
Until thine eye pour'd forth a scalding flood? 

If it were so, I could not blame thy grief; 
But I would sit beside thee in thy wo, 
And bid my tears to thine responsive flow, 

Till He who smote should bring thy soul relief: 
My tongue would words of consolation say, 
And lead thy thoughts from this sad world away; 

And tell thee of the land beyond the tomb, 
The gardens beautiful, where Jesus' hands 

Have planted thy sweet bud, to grow and bloom, 
And gladden thee and thine, while heaven eternal 

stands. 

87 



=£> 



Q 



itarg's gflUito. 

A shady dell beside the road, 
Sequester'd, cool, and grassy: 

A pleasant brook anear it flow'd, 
Its current pure and glassy. 

And Mary's home was on the hill ; 

Up in the farm-house yonder : 
But in the dell so cool and still 

It was her wont to wander. 

Her father's sheep the tender maid 
Her steps had taught to follow, 

And friskful lambs around her play'd 
Down in the grassy hollow. 

And there she sat on summer days, 
Her nimble fingers flitting, 

Through many an intertwisting maze 
In curious arts of knitting. 



h= 



=_-= -■ - p 

mahy's hollow. 89 



And there she sang some simple song 
Or hymn learn' d from her mother : 

The hours to her were never long — 
Each moment chased the other. 

A native quietude of mien 

So graciously became her ; 
The maidens on the village-green 

With honour loved to name her. 

The quiet meekness of her brow 
Awoke no special wonder — 

Though like a brook beneath the snow, 
A stream of thought ran under. 

And oftentimes a sudden smile 
Her countenance stole over, 

As flitting sunbeams dance the while 
O'er fields of blooming clover. 

The very angel of her hearth, 
Her mother's hand caress' d her : 

She changed her father's care to mirth, 
And silently he bless' d her. 

8* 



90 mary's hollow. 



On Sunday in the village choir, 
Her pure, sweet voice, out-pealing, 

Struck up in listening hearts the fire 
Of deep and holy feeling. 

When sorrow's burden fell upon 
Some soul too weak to bear it, 

She bent her willing shoulder down 
And kindly sought to share it. 

The great wide world was all astir 
And heaved in toppling billows; 

But all was calm as heaven to her 
Beneath her drooping willows. 

As life ran on with silent pace, 

Her meek and pious spirit 
Grew meeter for the holy place 

The pure in heart inherit. 

And when the leaves were turning red, 
And autumn winds were sweeping, 

Sweet Mary with the early dead 
Beneath the grass was sleeping. 



CL 



D 
mary's hollow. 91 



The neighbours, still, who pass that way 
Where Mary's sheep did follow, 

Remember her; and to this day 
They call it Mary's Hollow. 



=L> 






gostgl €. $aL 



How fast the living fade away around us ! 

Some in the Spring, and in the Summer others- 
Autumn and Winter smite our human brothers, 

And snap the tendrils that to them had bound us. 
It seems but yesterday I saw his face; 

And now I sit in silence and alone, 

And ask in doubt, "And is he surely gone, 
And pass'd to his eternal dwelling-place V 

Fallen in his prime, like an un wither' d leaf, 

The pen is poor to phrase our speechless grief. 
Of gifted mind and gentle in his spirit, 

And kind and tender as a very dove, 

And fill'd with an exuberance of love, 

A long remembrance richly doth he merit. 

92 



i 

a d 



=p 



"Je Mil not apin Jrajei us." 

NeaPs Gazette. 

That phrase I cannot help but feel, 
Unless my heart be made of steel : 
Forget mine ancient friend — my Neal ! 
"Never more I" 
As said the raven 
To the trembling, timid, craven 
Lover of the maid Lenore ; — 
"Nevermore!" 

How many pleasant memories — 

And mournful ones as well — 

(These to sadden — those to please) — 

Are treasured in the cell 

Within my mind wherein I store 

Memorials of the days of yore ; — 

How many such 

But need a touch 

To break their gentle slumber; 
93 



=£> 



u 

94 HE WILL NOT ACxAIN FORGET US. 



And up they start 
Around the heart 
A host without a number. 

Forget! forget! 

Nay, never yet 
Have Lethe's waves my memory met; 

And far away 

May be the day 
When, to f ' forgetfulness a prey/' 

My mental ear 

No more shall hear 
Dead voices speak that once were dear. 

Some days of darkness have been mine, 
When hope had nearly ceased to shine; 

And I have lain 

In inward pain 
Amid the blackness round me. 

Yet even then 

Light came again, 
And God's rich mercy found me, 

No ! I would not 

Consent to blot 
Such times from recollection, 



<3= 



HE WILL NOT AGAIN FORGET US. 95 



For now they bring 

Xo barbed sting. 
But quicken my affection; 

And they fill up 

Anew the cup 
That cures the soul's dejection. 

Nor is it needful to forget 
The sins and follies we regret ; 
They well may stand, 
And mark the shoal 
Where once the soul 
"Was like to strand. 

The memory of our errors past 

A shade upon our path may cast; 

But if it lead us to abhor 

The thing that grimed our soul before, — 

And turn our face 

To Heaven for grace 
To do the evil deed no more, — 
Then it were fitting that the sprite 
Anon should dimly meet our sight ; 
And wiser, better beings we 
Perchance were for his company. 



^J 



96 HE AVILL NOT AGAIN FORGET US. 



Forget a friend whose hand I've held, 
Who sleepeth still and low, 

The tumult of life's battle quell'd? — 
No ! never — never ! no ! 



o ^=^r 



=£) 



Ik iitocr of Mhpte. 

Oh for a spell of the former time, 
When I dwelt beside the river of rhyme, 
And the frequent thought would over me steal, 
k - Shall I dip a bowl of its waters for Xeal ?" 

To the margin I skipp'd, 
(I was vounger then.") 
By a sleight of the pen 

The vessel was dipp'd \ 
And I drank myself, and I found the bowl 
Was a pleasant draught for a thirsty soul; 
And when I held it to Joseph to drink, 
He look'd at me with a friendly wink, 
And said it was good, and wish'd for more 
Of the waters that flow'd a-past my door. 
So many a time I sent him a can : 
u He loved it," he said — and I loved the man, 
And I was glad to give him a pleasure 

As big as the span of my mind could measure; 

9 " 97 



=s 



98 THE RIVER OF RHYME. 



Until the day 
When he was calPd from the world away, 

And round his clay 
The friends who loved him silently wept. 
A chord in my bosom suddenly snapt, 

And I, in indolence wrapt, 
Left my mansion untended, unkept. 

Till it were nigh to decay. 
Though it be now refurnish' d and swept, 

Yet there too seldom I stay : 
But still I love to think of the time 
When I dwelt beside the river of rhyme, 
Where a tide of music flow'd ever along, 
And every breeze was the birth of a song. 



o= 



%\t ieatttifwl ^ap at Spnjf. 



The cold and rugged weather stripped the trees, 

And made them very desolate. ; Twas not 
A single frosty, biting autumn-breeze 

That tore the leaves from their first nestling-spot. 
The winds unkindly came day after day, 

And smote the gentle things. They stood the 
blast 

Awhile, and then began to shrivel fast, 
Till utterly their life had died away. 
The rage of winter having pass'd, the year 

Put on a milder face. The sun broke forth 
And dallied with the balmy atmosphere, 

And shone so smilingly, the frigid north 

Call'd back its murky clouds, and all around 

The timorous plants came peeping through the 

ground. 

99 



=D 



p" 



100 THE BEAUTIFUL DAYS OF SPRING. 



The melancholy trees revived again ; 

On every bough the budding leaves appear'd; 
And earth grew lovelier in the sight of nien ; 

And many a heart with hopeful thought was 
cheer' d : 
For sadness with the winter died away, 
And spring gave promise of a better day. 

The birds came trustingly and lived among us, 
And sweet-lipp'd flowers on morning breezes flung us 

A perfume delicate; and every field, 
Though simply clad in garniture of green, 

The beauteous handiwork of God reveal'd. 
How great the lesson taught by such a scene, — 

That sunny looks and kindly actions e'er 

Cause love to flourish fragrantly and fair, 



a- - _ _^ = ^— ^ - r ^__ = & 



%\t ^waging $mi\$h 

A pensiveness of feeling 
Unbiddenly comes stealing 

Over me 

When I see 
An old house going 

To decay, — 
The wild grass growing 

In the way— 
The window-shutters hanging 

Half awry. 

Now creaking and now banging 

When the gale sweeps by, — 

The shatter' d panes 

Bespatter' d by the rains — 

The empty rooms 

As silent as the tombs — 

9* 101 



q== — r 

102 THE DECAYING HOMESTEAD. 



The dusty floor — 
The spider weaving in the door — 
The awfulness of desolation 
Pervading the habitation, — 

While all things wear 
A comfortless, unwelcome air. 

The family gathering no more is there, 
Cheerful and calm; 

No morning prayer 
Nor evening psalm : 
No joyous maiden's voice is heard 
Outcarolling the mocking-bird — 

No children's laugh; — 
No old man leaning on his staff, 

Nor matron there is seen 
Before the door at eventide serene. 
No neighbours come to chat 

Of this and that, 
And for old friendship's sake, 
The Souchong cup partake. 
But silence and desolation 
Pervade the habitation, 

And all things wear 
A comfortless, unfriendly air. 



G= 



THE DECAYING HOMESTEAD. 103 



~ 7 ? 



Where is the human band 

That here abode? 
Have all departed to the land 

Whose only road 
Is through death's dim domain? 
Vain the inquiry — vain ! 
There is not one to tell 
How the old family fell : 
Pass'd out of mind — ■ 
Forgotten quite — 
The record left behind 
Is blank as night. 
Gone to a world afar. 

Perchance on high 
From some resplendent star 

They turn a wondering eye 
To their old home below, 

And love Him with intenser love 
Who beckon' d them from wo 
To an immortal home above, 
Where holy exultation 
Pervades their habitation, 
And all things wear 
A heavenly and glorious air. 



=b 



n- 



Negroes and boys may whistle in the street, — 
The boys because they're void of better sense, 
And Afric's sons because kind Providence 

Has gifted them with whistling pipes complete, 
For oft they make a music rather sweet. 
(Indeed, I listen with a sort of pleasure 
When they perform in harmony and measure, 

And beat the time with swiftly-moving feet.) 
And even men may whistle when they hear 

A tale that's somewhat marvellous and tough : 

In case like this it may be well enough 
To make their incredulity appear; 

Yet still I think most sensible men with me 

That whistling is a bore will heartily agree. 

At times when I have languidly reclined 
In musing silence, waiting for the birds 

Of fancy to descend upon the mind, 
And sing to me the sweet poetic words 

104 



— =^=p 

WHISTLING. 105 



That people love, — when all the town was still 
Save the low, murmuring, human hum that rose, 
Like mutter' d moanings from the lips of those 

Who form the grist of death's e'er-going mill, — 

Some glib performer with his music shrill 
Has made my fancies take a hasty flight, 
And, like the north wind of a winter night, 

Has through my bosom sent a sudden chill. 
Despairingly, I' ye put my pen aside, 
And to my pillow pensively have hied. 



=b 



%\t falling font 



Who dwells within this mansion hoary, 
Crumbling, tottering, soon to fall — 

The tokens of whose former glory 
Linger faintly on the wall? 



The windows, dark and stain'd and dusty, 

Dimly light the inner room; 
The hinges of thy limbs are rusty, 

Lonely sitter in the gloom ! 

Is there no voice in thee abiding — 
Accent tremulous or strong — 

To tell the passer-by some tiding 
As he wanders here along? 

The watcher at thy gate of hearing, 
Dull and drowsy, heeds no sound, 

The outer world to him appearing 
Silent as a burial-ground. 

106 



CL 



— =o 

THE FALLING HOUSE. * 107 



Oh ! why art thou so unreplying, 

Inmate of this ruin gray ? 
Alas! I speak but to the dying; 

Lo ! the soul has passed away ! 

Deserted, dark, disfurnish'd dwelling, 

Empty utterly and riven, 
Thy lifelong tenant now is swelling 

Psalms and hymns and songs in heaven. 

And thou, in beautiful expansion 

Built again, no more to fall, 
Shalt be the soul's immortal mansion 

Who here tenanted thy hall. 



=D 



(T 



% latest gont, 



A merry babe and beautiful is this our latest born ! 

Her cheek is soft as silky threads that overlay the 
corn ; 

Her eye is like a tiny spot of heaven's serenest blue 

Imbedded in the snowy clouds, with starlight flash- 
ing through. 

Her voice is but a little voice, and yet it enters in 
My bosom with a welcome that a monarch could 

not win; 
I love the rill that down the hill comes dancing with 

a song, 
But more I love her liquid notes that trickle all day 

long. 

Her hair is not a silver white, nor yet of golden hue, 
But of a colour cunningly compounded of the two ; 
'Tis not a flimsy gossamer that glistens in the sun, 

But like the richer fabric from the multicaulis spun. 

108 



CL 



r ~ z — D 

THE LATEST BORN. 109 



With niotlier-loYe and patient skill, there's one who 

strives to teach 
Her guileless tongue the simple sounds that form 

our human speech; 
She looks up in her mother's face, as if in wonder 

why 
Her lip should speak the tender things once spoken 

by the eye. 

'Tis but a year and seven months she's dwelt among 
us here, 

And yet has she become to us an object passing- 
dear; 

'Tis wondrous that a love so young should twine 
its tendrils so. 

As make us fear our hearts would tear before they'd 
let it go. 

She enters on the race of life with tottering steps 

and slow, 
And often trips upon the floor from overhaste to go : 
Thus infancy has ups and clowns as well as graver 

years, 

But bears them with a lighter heart, if not with 

fewer tears. 

10 



=B 



110 THE LATEST BORN. 



A thousand mothers in our land may fold within 
their arms 

A babe as beautiful as this, or sweeter in its 
charms : 

The blessing of our loving Lord be on these bosom- 
flowers ; 

And may their bliss in them be such as we have 
found in ours ! 



fcfc 



=v) 



%\t §«otI 0f tire §e;tuiifttL 

Robe the beautiful for the tomb — ■ 

We may no longer stay her; 
She has pass'd away in virgin bloom ; 

In vestal white array her. 
One single auburn tress we crave 

Before her face ye cover; 
Why should the cold and grasping grave 

Take all from those who love her? 

Bear the beautiful to the tomb 

While yet the sun is shining, 
Ere the shadows and evening gloom 

Denote the day's declining. 
Bear her softly and slowly on — 

Disturb no piacicl teature; 
Deep the sleep she's fallen upon, 

The last of a mortal creature. 

ill 



112 THE BURIAL OF THE BEAUTIFUL. 



Lay the beautiful in the tomb; 

Beneath the weeping willow 
Let the maiden have sleeping room, 

And softly spread her pillow. 
Angels hasten from realms of bliss. 

Their watch above her keeping: 
Dear to the heart of the holy is 

The place where she is sleeping. 

Leave the beautiful in the tomb; 

There may be others fairer; 
Haughtier heads may wave a plume 

With glory to the wearer; 
But so beautiful and so good 

— Think they who dearly held her- 
Earth in its loveliest sisterhood 

May never have excelFd her. 



Cfc 



=D 



^tmnxm ai lt0t|^ 



My mother ! would thou wert alive, 

As I remember thee — 
TThen long ago I knelt to pray 

" Our Father" at thy knee. 

Oh ! very beautiful wert thou — 
Thine eye so clear and bright — 

Thy cheek that never lost its hue — 
Thy brow so purely white ! 

But not on thy sweet comeliness 
My thoughts most love to dwell; 

A thousand holier memories rise, 
And make my bosom swell : 

Thy calm, confiding trust in God — 

Thy charitable ways — 

Thy wonted place, where angels said, 

"Behold, a sister prays !" 

10* 113 



JC 



er--= ===== — g 

114 MEMORIES OF MOTHER. 



The tender, careful watchfulness 

Thy love around us kept; 
Thy gentle oversight at night, 

While we securely slept. 

How thy least deed of love still lives 
Through the long lapse of years, 

And strikes the rock in manhood's heart, 
And draws the gushing tears ! 

I would not rob from heaven; yet I 
Could wish thee still with me, 

To bless me with thy smile again, 
As I remember thee. 



Ut 



tQ 



fife's Atoning* 



The world to me is growing gray and old; 

My friends are dropping one by one away; 

Some live in far-off lands — some in the clay 
Rest quietly, their mortal moments told. 

My sire departed ere his locks were gray; 

My mother wept, and soon beside him lay; 
My elder kin have long since gone — and I 

Am left — a leaf upon an autumn tree, 

Among whose branches chilling breezes steal, 
The sure precursors of the winter nigh ; 

And when my offspring at our altar kneel 
To worship God, and sing our morning psalm, 

Their rising stature whispers unto me 
My life is gently waning to its evening calm. 

115 



JD. 



Or 



How beautiful the sight ! — the tidy table 

Set out for tea — the buckwheat cakes all smoking — 
The steaming urn — the watering mouth provoking ; 

The girls and boys, with eating powers able, 
Awaiting father's grace ere they begin 
To lay a store of mother's good things in. 

The knife and spoon they ply with artless grace : 
To chicle their eager haste, the mother cries 
In gentle tones, and warns them that " their eyes 

Are bigger than their stomachs." Every face 
Grows big with wonder as to what she means. — 

The tea-time o'er, the children say their prayers, 

And go to bed, and sleep devoid of cares. 

Would that our land were studded with such 
scenes ! 

116 



a= 



"O 



% Cttg idle fcsftt % §toIl 



A pensive belle beside the brook — 
Her tears are falling in its waters : 
"Ah! why thy sad and piteous look, 

Thou favour' cl one of Fortune's daughters?" 

"The world has snared me in its net, 

And holds me captive to its fashions, — 
My nature's better motions met 

And strangled by imperious passions. 

"Upbubbling from its hidden store, 

This brook flows on, a blessing-giver, 
That while it gives, yet getteth more, 
Till it becomes a mighty river : 

"And so moves onward to its goal, 

And ever with a grander motion, 

And pours the fulness of its soul 

Into the everlasting ocean. 

117 



=D 



iX- 



118 THE CITY BELLE BESIDE THE BROOK. 



"But idly steals my life apace — 

Unlike the brook, so vain and aimless — 
I fear, when I behold his face, 

Its Giver will not hold me blameless." 

"'Tis well to shed such wholesome tears, 
maiden mazed in fashion's folly; 
[f wisdom crown thy coming years, 
Then bless thy mood of melancholy. 

"'Thy voice is softly tuned and clear, 
As if thou wert a mortal angel ; 
Go thou, and be to misery's ear 
A comforter and blest evangel. 

" Thy hands are pure as falling snow, 
Thy graceful fingers soft and slender: 
Smooth thou the sufferer's pallid brow, 
And pain shall flee a touch so tender. 

"From his high throne the Son of God 
Came to 'bind up the broken-hearted;' 
Then let thy feet with love be shod 
To seek and save the hope-departed. 



o= 



THE CITY BELLE BESIDE THE BROOK. 119 



" From thy full store replenish thou 

The cheerless hearth — the empty basket; 
Hold not thy help from heads that bow, 
Though natural pride refrain to ask it. 

"Nor hope in thy mere strength to stand — 
Join faith with works in firm unition; 
And stronger than a brazen band 

Thy soul shall be to work its mission. 

"And so thy heart fulfilling well 

The end for which thy life is given, 
The dove of peace within shall dwell, 
And thou shalt have the joy of heaven." 



=D 



QF= 



Whene'er I meet an orphan boy, I say 

Within my heart, "Lord ! bless this desolate child, 

And be his guide in all his heavenward way : 
Oh, bid the winds to this lone one be mild, 

And burning suns to gently beam on him : 

Let lowering clouds make not his pathway dim; 
May stony ways be soft beneath his feet, 
And bitter waters to his taste be sweet I" 

A waif of heaven, cast upward by the sea 
On this drear shore, how pitiful his lot ! 

— Nay ! heavenly watchers bear him company, 
And help and cheer him, though we see them not ; 

For God a Father sits upon the throne, — 

The poor and fatherless are specially his own. 

120 



a — = =o 



=Q 



Juttmmral d$mti 



The beautiful repose of age 
Pervades the land to-day : 

The Autumn, like a reverend sage 
With years and labour gray, 

And pausing in his pilgrimage, 
Is resting by the way. 

Or like a mother, meek of eye — 
Life's active duties o'er — 

Who, when the eventide is nigh, 
Sits calmly in the door, 

And ponders on the things gone by 
And days she knew of yore. 

'Tis Nature's time of quietude 
Before the day of dread, 

When Winter in a wrathful mood 

O'er all the land shall tread; 

11 121 



=D 



122 AUTUMNAL QUIET. 



And leaves and flowers are thickly strew'd 
Along his pathway, dead. 

What though no cheerful song of bird 

Nor insect's merry trill 
Among the barren boughs is heard, 

There's music round me still, 
What time these old brown leaves are stirr'd 

That wither on the hill. 

The rivulets are musical, 

As hiddenly they flow 
Along their gravelly beds, or fall 

On mossy rocks below— 
And sweeter notes in cot or hall 

Are seldom heard, I trow. 

I love the woods in autumn time, 

So quiet and so dim, 
W hen sighing winds evoke a chime 

From many a slender limb, 
Until it seems the note sublime 

Of some angelic hymn. 



h 



1 Q 

AUTUMNAL QUIET. 123 



My soul would sit in silence here : 

Let no discordance jar 
The music-laden atmosphere 

Where heavenly singers are : 
This calm sweet Sabbath of the year 

'Twere wanton sin to mar. 



=D 



fimprg. 

If tears were medicine for wo, 
Then were it well to weep; 
For Hungary has fallen — fallen low 
Before her foe, 
And slavery's legions sweep 
Across the plains where Liberty descended. 

The unequal strife is ended; 
And man, oppress'd and foil'd, sinks down, 
Beneath the frown 
Of proud and cruel lords. 
The patriot swords, 
Drawn in defence of liberty and right, 
And gory with the blood of valorous fight, 
Lie in the dust, 
Discolour' d with the rust; 
The tyrant's steel 
Has touch' d a vital part — 
His heel 
Is set on Hungary's quivering heart. 

124 



LL 



=D 



HUNGARY. 125 



Oh ! hapless land. 

Bestead by fire and brand ! 

Her mothers and her maidens refuge seeking, 

Their garments reeking 

With blood from the accursed rod, 

That tears their flesh while they are shrieking 

In agony to God. 
The homes where hope had lighted 
Pier promise-fires, are desolate and blighted; 
The winds, melodious once with freedom's song, 
Groan with the piteous plaint of causeless wrong : 

The sunlight falls on blasted fields, 
Whose soil no recompense to reaper yields : 
The stars look tearfully on hopeless men 
Who have no heart to look on high again; 
But stricken, humbled, broken, crushed — 
The nobler voices of their being hush'd — 
They bear the heavy chain, 
Or gnaw in silence at its links in vain. 

Shall it be ever so ? 

Heaven and earth together answer No ! 

But, sure as the eternal heaven stands, 

The Lord will break the bands 

Wherewith the tyrants fetter Freedom's hands. 
11* 



I 



pr 



126 HUNGARY. 



Freedom is but a little child of days, 

And yet a child immortal as the truth; 
When tyranny shall totter in its ways, 

That child shall show the lusty strength of youth ; 
The rusty shackles from its limbs shall fall, 

And down to ocean's deepest depths shall go; 
The oppress' d in all the earth shall heed the call, 

And join the strife against the common foe. 
day of glory and of triumph too ! 

wretched foes, accursed of God and man ! 
Where will ye hide when heaven and earth pursue, 

And Truth and Freedom lead the battle-van ? 



CL 



x> 



%a Ito gut 



C? A 



Mine ancient pedal friend, a last farewell ! 

So many days we've footed it together 

The lane of life, in fair and stormy weather. 
Mine eyes wellnigh their lid-dikes overswell. 

I well remember when thou didst encase 
My nether limbs with pressure warm and tight; 
And many a corny twinge from morn till night 

Evinced the ardency of thine embrace. 
Soon, like the love of some long-married wife, 

Thy grasp, if not so strong, was still as true, 
And pleasanter; and as we grew in life, 

Thou wert as gentle as a pliant shoe; 
And while on thee I trampled every day, 
To shield me thou didst wear thy very sole away. 

Though I despise the slander-monger's art, 

And scorn the wretch who blackens the fair fame 

Of one whose richest fortune is his name, 

(The wretch whose steel goes deeper than the heart,) 

127 



128 TO MY BOOT. 



Yet it has been my daily wont, I own ; 
To black thy face until its skin has shone 

With ebon glow, as lustrous as the hue 
That forms the charm of Guinea's native breed. 
But 'twas not that I hated thee : indeed, 

I prized thee so ; that when thy sole broke through 
And let in water, 'twas my special heed 

A man of awls thy gaping wounds should sew ; 
And sundry pangs athwart my pocket shoot 
To part with thee at last, worn and faithful boot! 



Q= 



®|e itotljet. 

Whatever be the language of the skies, 
There is no fitting word that I can find 
To express the affection of a mother's mind 

When roguish smiles play in her infant's eyes. 
The cherub has a passport to her heart; 

A key that opens nature's fastest locks; 

A natural skill of witchery that mocks 
The wise professors of the potent art. 

Thanks be to Heaven that man is once a child — 
That once our nature wears the guise of all 

That's truthful, loving, loveable, and mild — 
That tones of childhood to our thoughts recall 

The rapturous times when in a fond embrace 

We clasp'd our mother's neck, and kiss'd her cheer- 
ful face. 

129 



£ 



f ttuuiH Tfrntayati. 



Some men are cruel in their nature — rough 

In mind and manner — burly sons of strife; 
So coarsely wrought of nature's coarsest stuff, 

With them there's nothing delicate in life. 
Were man a tree, they were the outer bark; 

Were man a wood, they were the brier-bush : 
But now they're snarling porcupines, that mark 

With scratches all who 'gainst their prickles push. 
They've little love for any living thing — 

Their hearts are barely big enough to hold 

Affection for themselves and for their gold — 
Perchance a little for their dog or mother, 
Which selfishness has not had time to smother — 

To all the world besides, they live alone to sting. 
130 



h - t> 



"D 



Jltttamu f|pe^ 



Fve several times in vain essayed to sing 
A simple song of Autumn. Other fingers 

Have oft and sweetly touch' d the tuneful string. 
And waked the pensiveness that life-long lingers 

In hearts of men, like some long-hallow' d story. 
I've seen the tender flowers grow pale and die,- — 
The dry and wither' d leayes around me lie, — • 

The sun go down in his peculiar glory, — - 

The thrice-expanded moon come slowly up, 

And break a passage through the eastern vapours,— 
The pure, clear stars light up their little tapers 

And swing them out, each in a crystal cup, 
As if to lure the feet of mortals thither, 
The land of love, where hopes nor flowers wither. 

And I have had within some partial movings 

Of spiritualness; some quickening of the feelings; 

Yet careless heed I've given to the reprovings 

Of nature in her many-voiced revealings. 

131 



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132 AUTUMN RHYMES. 



The Autumn is a solemn missioner; 

A preacher to the sons of men is she : 
And happy he who learns betimes of her 

The wholesome truth of his mortality, 
And ponders well the fleetness of his days, 
And meekly walks in heavenly wisdom's ways. 

The fading leafs an eloquent text to man : 
" We all do fade, and wither as a leaf -" 

And he who reaches life's extremest span 
Exclaims in sadness, " Ah! my days are brief!" 



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Hip i am ©to aiti ^ng. 



Life seems in youth a sunny vale 

Where streams of beauty flow, 
And birds are singing all the while, 

And flowers of pleasure grow: 
The very clouds that dot the sky 

Add glory to the day; 
But will it seem so bright to me 

When I am old and gray? 

I love the handiwork of God, 

For I behold in all 
The tokens of his grace and power, 

Pervading great and small. 
A sense of gladness fills my soul, 

While silently I pray 
I still may see him in his works 

When I am old and gray. 

Will deep delight in rural scenes 

And rural works be mine — 

12 133 



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134 WHEN I AM OLD AND GRAY. 



The farmhouse, and the verdant mead, 
Where peaceful feed the kine ? 

Will the old trees still look sublime? 
"Will brooks still seem to play, 

And be as glad and frolicsome, 
When I am old and gray? 

The gentle beiDgs whom I love, 

Who love me full as well — - 
The few and cherish' d friends whose hearts 

With warm emotions swell — 
Oh ! will their love abide in strength 

When years have sped away ? 
Will friends be true and kinsmen kind 

When I am old and gray? 

Though flood and flame destroy my goods — 

Though weakness bow my frame — 
Though death remove each loving one 

Who bears on earth my name — 
My father's God, who hitherto 

Hast been my staff and stay, 
I know thou wilt forsake me not 

When I am old and gray ! 



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f eniteittiai fragit 

I do acknowledge unto thee, God ! 

A child of wilful waywardness I've been; 

In crooked paths of selfishness and sin 
These many years my wandering feet have trod. 

But, oh ! be merciful ! The world I've loved 

Like Sodom's fruit of bitterness has proved; 
And I, repentant, bleeding at the heart, 

Would find a Helper in this time of wo; 

And, save to thee, I know not where to go 
To find a balsam for my bosom's smart. 

Be merciful, God ! Let Him atone 
Who died for wretched men like me : no plea 

My anguish knows but this last plea alone ! 

For His dear sake, my God ! oh spare and pity me ! 

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136 



%\t %mX% Refuge. 



Draw nigh to the Holy, 

Bend low at bis throne; 
There, penitent lowly, 

Thy sinfulness own. 
There, there, if thou yearnest 

For pardon and rest, 
There, fervent and earnest, 

Prefer thy request. 

Confess thy backsliding, 

Thy weakness and fears. 
In Jesus confiding, 

There pour out thy tears : 
Think not He will scorn thee, 

Though wretched thy case; 
Hi« hand will adorn thee 

With garments of grace. 

More precious than treasure, 
More vast than the sea, 



the soul's refuge. 137 



His love has no measure 

Nor limit to thee. 
His easy yoke wearing, 

His pleasure abide; 
In all thy cross-bearing, 

He'll walk by thy side. 

Fear not the wild clangour 

That Satan may raise, 
So G-od's righteous anger 

But pass from thy ways. 
Whom Christ has forgiven 

Goes safely along, 
Till in the high heaven 

He sings the new song. 

Then kneel to the Holy, 

Bend low at his throne; 
There, penitent lowly, 

Thy sinfulness own : 
There, soul ! if thou yearnest 

For pardon and rest, 
There, fervent and earnest, 

Prefer thy request. 

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%ht Pnctpclientlj Jgalm feifiefr. 

Jehovah reigns! Let earth rejoice; 

And let the multitude of isles 
Be glad, and sing with tuneful voice ; 

And nature's face be clad in smiles. 

Though clouds and darkness from afar 
Are round about his presence known, 

Yet righteousness and judgment are 
The habitation of his throne. 

A fire before him goes, and burns 

His enemies on every side; 
His lightnings flash; and earth by turns 

Beholds and trembles in its pride. 

The hills before his presence melt ; 

Like wax before the furious flame; 

His presence by the earth is felt 

Who built her everlasting frame. 
138 



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THE NINETY-SEVENTH PSALM. 139 



The heavens declare his righteousness — 
The people all his glory see; 

While they who serve the images, 
And boast in them, confounded be. 

Then Zion heard, and she was glad; 

The daughters of Judea sang 
Bejoicingly, and through the land 

The praises of thy judgments rang. 

For thou, Lord ! above the earth 
Art high ; thou art exalted far 

Above the kings ot mortal birth, 
Though lofty their aspirings are. 

Hate evil, ye that love the Lord, 
For he preserves the saintly soul; 

And every danger he will ward, 

And save from wicked men's control. 

On righteous men shall light arise, 
Like morning breaking o'er the hills; 

And hope shall kindle in their eyes, 
While holv mirth their bosom fills. 



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140 THE NINETY-SEVENTH PSALM. 



Rejoice, ye righteous, in the Lord! 

Give thanks before his presence now; 
In memory of his faithful word 

And holiness, give thanks, and bow. 



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"What time I am afraid. I will trust in Thee."— Psalms, 

The billows round me rise and roll. 

The storms of worldly care 
Beat heavily upon my soul, 

And shroud me in despair : 
Forsaken, comfortless, betray' d, 

"With none to succour me ; — 
Father ! what time I am afraid, 

Then will I trust in Thee ! 

As feeble as the bruised reed, 

Infirm to will or do; 
Oft working out the ungrateful deed 

'Twere better to escnew,* 
How were the sinking soul dismay' d, 

But for this refuge-plea, — 

Father, what time I am afraid, 

Then will I trust in Thee ! 

141 



Q- — Q 

142 TRUST IN GOD. 



When hope is faint, and faith is weak, 

And fears the bosom fill, 
And I a strong assurance seek 

That thou art gracious still; 
I rest upon thy promise-word, 

To thine own truth I flee : 
Father, what time I am afraid, 

Then will I trust in Thee ! 

When saintly paleness marks my face, 

And dimness fills mine eye, 
And, hoping only in thy grace, 

I bow my head to die \ 
If, entering in the vale of shade, 

Nor sun nor star I see, 
Father, what time I am afraid, 

Then will I trust in Thee ! 



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Bear tlie burden of the present — 
Let the morrow bear its own; 

If the morning sky be pleasant. 
Why the coming night bemoan? 

If the darkened heavens lower, 
Wrap thy cloak around thy form: 

Though the tempest rise in power, 
God is mightier than the storm. 

Steadfast faith and hope unshaken 
Animate the trusting breast; 

Step by step the journey's taken 
Nearer to the land of rest. 

All unseen, the Master walketh 

By the toiling servant's side; 

Comfortable words he talketh, 

While his hands uphold and guide. 
143 



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144 PATIENT CONTINUANCE. 



Grief, nor pain, nor any sorrow 
Rends thy breast to him unknown; 

He to-day and He to-morrow 
Grace sufficient gives his own. 

Holy strivings nerve and strengthen — 
Long endurance wins the crown; 

When the evening shadows lengthen, 
Thou shalt lay the burden down. 



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